The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation (aka The Shamy Book Club)
by April in Paris
Summary: Amy has convinced Sheldon to read a work of mindless fiction. Thus the Fowler Cooper Publication Federation is born. But will Sheldon enjoy it? Companion piece to The Oxygen Deprivation Exploration & The Exhalation Combustion Investigation, takes places in the same world. Series of one-shots.
1. The Natural History of Dragons

**I postulated a scene in _The Oxygen Deprivation_ _Exploration_ that Amy convinces Sheldon to read a "mindless work of fiction." (It's Chapter 9: The Literary Contemplation if you missed it; I won't reprint it here as that may violate the rules of this site.) And thus the Fowler Cooper Publication Federation was born.**

**This will be a series of one-shots. I apologize in advance as it will probably be updated slowly. I'll have to read a book that seems appropriate first, then determine what I think they would say, etc. Please feel free to leave any suggestions in your reviews.**

**Although I will try not to give away too many spoilers for either the books discussed here, there will no doubt be some slips. Additionally it will be impossible to avoid spoilers for the Sheldon/Amy world I have created, so you've been warned. This meeting takes place between Chapter 9 and 10 of _The Oxygen Deprivation Exploration._**

**Again, I don't own The Big Bang Theory, its characters, or the books discussed here.**

* * *

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**Inaugural Meeting, September 2014**

**Topic: _The Natural History of Dragons: A Memoir by Lady Trent_ by Marie Brennan**

Amy took the mug of tea Sheldon offered as he sat down next to her. "It's been four weeks to the day since I gave you _The Natural History of Dragons_ to read, Sheldon, and you haven't said a word about it."

"Because I have nothing to say. I already thanked you for the gift. I read a novel for you, and I finished it," Sheldon said. Why did he have to say anything else about it?

"But you agreed to read it and talk about it," Amy replied.

"What is there to talk about?"

"Well, I do believe I was promised something about it being boring and you told me so, Dr. Cooper." Amy smirked at him as she lifted her mug to her mouth.

_I do like it when she calls me Dr. Cooper._ Sheldon raised an eyebrow back at her and held it there. "You are wrong, Dr. Fowler. I said, and I quote, 'I'll relish telling you what mindless drivel it was and how it was complete waste of both of our times. And I will say I told you so.' "

"See, you promised," Amy replied. _Parts of me stop functioning when he says my name like that._

Sheldon sighed. "I never used the word promise. For someone who claims to love literature so much, you fail terribly at language comprehension. But, as you are my girlfriend, I will indulge you. I am hereby relishing telling you it was mindless drivel. It was complete waste of both of our times. I told you so."

Amy could no longer tell if he was serious or not. She felt a stab of disappointment that maybe he was serious, and this was yet another thing they wouldn't enjoy together. "Did you really hate it?"

Sheldon's heart softened. He was trying to learn to flirt back with her, and sometimes he stumbled upon something he thought she liked. She liked being called Dr. Fowler, of that he was certain; and he was strongly beginning to suspect his eyebrow held some sort of power over her. But maybe he'd crossed a line. He sighed quietly. "No, I didn't hate it. It wasn't mindless drivel or a waste of time." He paused. "What did you think of it?"

She was pleased with the question. "I was quite taken with it. I thought its greatest strength was the tone and syntax used by the author. In addition, I thought the setting was very well articulated."

"If you keep saying things like that, there's no way I can discuss this."

"Why not?" She was disappointed again. "I thought we were going to discuss it seriously."

Yet again, Sheldon heard the hurt in her voice. He pushed away the gnawing feeling he felt so frequently around her lately. "Amy, if we talk about a character's feelings isn't that too much like talking about our own? And you know I don't like to talk about feelings."

Amy smiled in relief. "I don't think so. After all, no one is likely to confuse you with a Victorian woman fighting the glass ceiling that is natural history."

He couldn't deny her logic. _Clever Amy._ "Very well. It was well written. I enjoyed the protagonist. I thought she was intelligent, passionate, and determined. I like those qualities very much."

Amy wondered if he was, perhaps, despite his earlier question, talking about his own feelings. Should she press her luck? "What did you think of the Jacob Camherst character?"

"A man of science, even if that science is natural history, is a worthy man. I thought he was a good match for Isabella," Sheldon said.

Her heart skipped a beat. _Please don't be talking about the book anymore._ "You did?"

Sheldon was surprised. "Yes, didn't you? They were both scientists so they understood each other. He was the logical one, she was the eccentric, emotional one; but together they were a brilliant team. Like you and I, they were intellectual equals."

Amy thought her heart was going to explode with warmth. She thought about pressing further, but she knew that even Sheldon would figure out eventually that what he was saying. "What did you think of the dragons?"

"There weren't enough of them," Sheldon replied. He was inwardly relieved, because he was beginning to think he'd said too much, and Amy was going to ask him about the scene by the fire next.

Amy shrugged. "Although I disagree, I can respect that opinion. It's the first book in a series, so I think there will be more dragons in the future." She looked over at Sheldon hopefully. "The sequel is already published. We could read it together to find out."

_Do I want to read anther novel? Even if it is for Amy and even if she has made our little discussion not painful in the least_. He decided to test his theory on flirting. He would use the power of flirtation to get himself out of this. He raised his eyebrow. "Dr. Fowler, we will be entirely too busy with our Halloween preparations next month to read another novel."

Amy bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Very well. We can revisit the issue in November."

"That would be acceptable, Dr. Fowler." Sheldon kept his eyebrow up, even though it was starting to make his forehead ache. _Oh, the pain one endures for science._

"So, Dr. Cooper, we'll read a book together every other month?" Amy heard a little giggle come out at the end of her sentence and cursed herself.

"Agreed," Sheldon said quickly, so full of relief that he could lower his eyebrow, and then he immediately realized he had spoken too soon. Did Amy just giggle? _And did I just agree to some sort of bimonthly book club?_

Amy could no longer hide her smirk.

Sheldon rolled his eyes, and then he leaned over to kiss her. _What a strange power you hold over me, Amy Farrah Fowler. _


	2. The Tropic of Serpents

_**AN: This meeting takes place between chapters 7 and 8 of **_**The Exhalation Combustion Investigation**_**. **_

_**Again, spoilers!**_

* * *

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**November 2014**

**Topic: _The Tropic of Serpents: A Memoir by Lady Trent_ by Marie Brennan**

* * *

Amy sat the plates down on her dining table.

"What's this?" Sheldon asked. He leaned down slightly to sniff.

"You said you were hungry when you called. I made us turkey sandwiches."

"With leftover turkey?" _Just as I thought._

"Yes, with leftover turkey."

"Amy, I don't eat leftovers. All that cooling and setting around and reheating. They're a breeding ground of bacteria."

"First, Bernadette and I strictly followed all recommendations in regard to the temperature of the turkey. Second, we put the leftovers in the refrigerator almost immediately. Third, you know how clean my refrigerator is. Fourth, I love leftover turkey sandwiches the day after Thanksgiving more than turkey on actual Thanksgiving. Fifth, you don't have to eat it."

He tried, very hard, to give her his most defiant look. She gave him one back. He never would have guessed that telling Amy he loved her would make her more obstinate. And that her defiance would make him love her more. _Love is so confusing._

"Very well," he said. To her credit, Amy barely let the edges of a smile play on her lips. If he didn't know her lips so well, he may never have noticed.

"You said you finished the book this morning," Amy said.

He nodded while he chewed.

"Did you like it? Where there enough dragons for you?" Amy asked.

"I'm not sure there can ever be enough dragons. Especially as every time there is not a dragon in this book there is a lot of talking. There's that abysmal scene when they actually all sit in a circle talk about their feelings. But, other than that, yes, I liked it. Although I think it started a little slow."

"Are you talking about the break-in? And the politics of Eriga?"

He nodded into another bite. _I must never let her know how good this sandwich is._

"Perhaps. The politics came into play at the end of the book, so I understand the set up. I wonder if the break-in will be important in another book. I told you there are more planned for the future."

"Maybe. I liked the idea that the river creatures are dragons, too. The author is creating a whole new phylum." It occurred to Sheldon that he was now talking about this book exactly has he told Amy not to talk about its prequel two months ago. _Maybe there is something to this book idea, after all._

"I'm interested to hear your thoughts on the harness Isabel wore to emulate dragon wings."

"They wouldn't work. Even if the author is talented in the skills of language, she is clearly not a physicist. Or an engineer. I discussed it with Howard, and he agrees with me."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "You discussed it with Howard?"

"Yes, we attempted to diagram it, but it doesn't work." Then Sheldon had an odd feeling that maybe he'd done something wrong. "Was I not supposed to? Is this one of our . . . private things?"

She smiled at him, and he let out the breath he was holding. "No, I don't think it needs to be private. I was just surprised, that's all. For someone who didn't want to read a work of mindless fiction, you've taken it very seriously."

He didn't know how to answer that. He had taken it seriously. He had enjoyed it. And he especially enjoyed talking to Amy about it. She had been right, all along. _Amy is always right._

Instead of answering directly, he said instead, "There was one phrase I especially liked. On page 37, when Natalie spoke of committing to the tender mercies of physics."

"Did you like only because it contains the word physics?"

"No. I liked it because it described my life's work, which happens to be physics. My work is a commitment, but sometimes it's difficult."

Amy answered quietly. "Most true commitments are difficult. It is how committed we are that makes them worthy of the effort."

Sheldon coughed and shifted in his seat. He didn't understand, exactly, how this conversation had turned so weighty. _Why does our little book club always feel so revealing?_

This made him think of something else Howard had said. "Amy, Howard called this the Shamy book club."

"And you hate that."

"Yes, you know how much I dislike that term. I propose that we decide on an official name."

"If it has an official name, does that mean we are continuing it?"

He was surprised by that. "I thought that is what you wanted."

"I do. But I wasn't going to force you."

"You're not forcing me. Well, you are forcing me to admit I enjoy it. But you're not forcing me to read with you."

Amy gave him her warmest smile. _I've pleased her._ She said, "What did you have in mind?"

"The Cooper Fowler Publication Federation. I've always wanted to be part of a Federation."

"Like in Star Trek?"

"Why, yes." He grinned at her. He thought his heart might burst with affection. _Just when I thought it wasn't possible to love her any more._

"I think it should be the Fowler Cooper Publication Federation."

"But that's not alphabetical."

"Yes, but I'm the creator." A look of defiance was starting to creep back into her eyes.

Sheldon didn't even try to fight back. "The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation it is."

He lifted his glass up and she brought hers in for a salute and clink.

"What are we reading for January?" he asked.

"You pick."

"But you always pick."

"I've picked twice now. You should pick something."

"Comic books are out?"

"You know that," she said, warning in her voice.

"I don't read fiction. How will I know what to pick?"

"Do some of that research you love so much. You have a month to think about it. A good starting place is often to pick something that reminds you of something else you've especially enjoyed in the past."

Sheldon was stumped. There were so many things he'd especially enjoyed lately. But they all had to do with Amy. How was he ever going to find a book that reminded him of her?


	3. The Angel's Kiss

_**AN: This meeting takes place during the first half of Chapter 12: The Superman Distraction in my story **_**The Exhalation Combustion Investigation. **_**Spoilers if you're not caught up on that story.**_

* * *

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**January 2015**

**Topic: _Doctor Who: The Angel's Kiss: A Melody Malone Mystery_ by Justin Richards_  
_**

* * *

The insistent shaking tore her away from her sleep.

Shake, shake, shake. "Amy."

Shake, shake, shake. "Amy."

Shake, shake, shake. "Amy."

"Noooo," she moaned. She squinted into the light.

"Wake up, we have to talk." Sheldon stood over her, in his robe, clutching her Kindle in his arms. Without her glasses, he was fuzzy.

"Sheldooon. What time is it?"

"11:54."

"Why are you waking me up at midnight?"

"It's not midnight, it's 11:54. That's the point."

"I'm sure whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow." She desperately wanted to go back to sleep.

"No, it can't wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow is February, and that's too late."

She sighed deeply. "Why is that too late?"

"Because today is the last day of January. We agreed to read and discuss a book on the odd numbered months. We have precisely five minutes now to start that discussion."

Amy sighed again. She knew that eagerness in his voice. There would be no sleep now. She braced her hands on the mattress, pulling herself upright. "Fine. Hand me my glasses."

Sheldon grinned, and he picked up her glasses and gave them to her. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she moved over to make room for him.

"So you stayed up late to finish the book? You didn't have to, you know," she said.

"Yes, I did. I've never turned in a late assignment in my life."

"It's not an assignment, Sheldon."

"It is to me. An assignment to understand you better."

Amy's heart glowed. She loved it when Sheldon said cute and loving things without even realizing it. "You could have asked for an extension. I know you've had other things on your mind this month."

He didn't reply. Instead she saw him reach up to touch his chest. It was becoming a bit of a tic for him, and she found it incredibly sad. She regretting bringing it up.

"Okay, you start," she said, changing the subject.

"You always start."

"I picked the last two books, you picked this one. You start."

"But -" he started to protest.

"It's 11:58. You'd better start talking about the book or you'll be late."

"I was disappointed." He blurted that out, and then hung his head.

_Oh._ "Sheldon? Why are you sorry that you're disappointed?"

He looked up at her. "Because this is something we both enjoy. I don't want it to be disappointing."

She moved over more, so she was on the opposite side of the bed. She patted the spot she had just left with her hand. "Come here." He moved in next to her.

"Just because you found a book disappointing doesn't mean we won't continue to enjoy this," she said. "You will not enjoy all books. It's like . . . it's like that one science fiction show you hate. But you still like other science fiction shows."

"Amy, I didn't say it was as bad as _Babylon 5_. Almost nothing is as bad as _Babylon 5_," he said, sounding more like himself.

"Then why was it disappointing?"

"You told me to pick something that reminded me of something else I've especially enjoyed in the past. But I didn't enjoy it as much."

She thought she understood. "So you missed The Doctor. It's in the _Doctor Who_ universe, but he's not in it. I think that's a valid reaction."

"No, that's not it. I did miss The Doctor. It still felt like an episode of Doctor Who, maybe just not as serious."

This confused Amy. She was confused why Sheldon thought_ Doctor Who_ was serious. Even though she enjoyed it herself, she never thought it was all that serious. But she was more confused by what was troubling Sheldon.

"So you liked the story, you didn't mind that The Doctor wasn't in it, but you're still disappointed? Was it too short? I think it's technically a novella."

"No, that's not it," Sheldon sighed loudly.

Of all his sighs, Amy was certain this was the one that meant there was a feeling there he didn't want to talk about. She waited patiently. She had learned that sometimes giving him peace opened him up.

In a few minutes, he sighed again, softer. "I picked the book because it's supposedly written by Melody Malone. You like Melody Malone. You were Melody Malone for Halloween. I wanted to read a book that reminded me of you. But she isn't you."

She was flustered. In a good way. _Sheldon wanted to read a book that reminded him of me._ It was an incredibly sweet and kind thing to do, to say. She wasn't certain he knew how much.

"Thank you, Sheldon."

He raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

Amy shrugged. "I wouldn't want to be River Song."

"But I thought you did. She's your favorite character."

"Just because she's my favorite character doesn't mean I want to be her. I like her, I respect her, I appreciate her, but I wouldn't want to be her. Maybe I do envy her courage, but I wouldn't want to be her."

"Why not?" Sheldon was looking at her very intently. She loved it when he looked at her with such complete absorption.

"Because she doesn't get to spend her life with the man she loves."

Instead of replying, Sheldon brought his hand up to caress her cheek. Time stopped, and she became lost in his beautiful pale blue eyes. She had the feeling she had stumbled upon something, something that maybe Sheldon knew and she didn't.

"Amy, do you think that The Doctor and River Song ever had coitus?" Sheldon asked suddenly.

Amy raised her eyebrows. _Well, that's new. I didn't see that coming._ "Of course."

"Why of course?"

"Did we read the same book? Between that and the television show I always assumed so."

"It is because she had so much sass? Dr. Fowler has taught me that physical intimacy can make females impertinent."

Amy chuckled at that. "No. Here, let me show you."

Sheldon passed her the Kindle. She quickly found the bookmark she was looking for. She read aloud, "'Let me through – I'm a doctor.' My heart beat a little faster, and I lingered just long enough to be sure he'd used the indefinite article. But the man was short and bald and rather ugly – not at all like any Doctor I'd consult. I hope. If consult is the right word."

"So consult is a euphemism?" Sheldon asked. "I see it now, when you read it to me that way. I think you're right. Maybe we should have listened to the audiobook."

"Yes. But not just that. It's way the word doctor makes her heart beat faster and the way she lingers to find out if it's him."

"Just my love for you makes my heart beat faster. I often find myself lingering for you."

_Wow, all sorts of unintentional sweetness. Maybe I should let Sheldon wake me in the middle of the night more often._

However, Sheldon's question put Amy at a loss. He was right, of course. Love alone did make one's heart beat faster and linger for another. "Maybe you are right. You're certainly correct that love and coitus aren't the same thing, at least not all the time. I guess I just assumed that River Song loved The Doctor in every way it is possible to love someone."

Sheldon cocked his head and considered her words silently. She watched him for a moment, until he shook is head slightly, which she knew meant he was putting a thought on a shelf in his mind to think about later.

"Can we go to sleep now?" she asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're on my side of the bed."


	4. The Eyre Affair

_**AN: This meeting takes place after the conclusion of my story **_**The Exhalation Combustion Investigation _(as will all future meetings)._ **_**Spoilers if you've not read it.**_

* * *

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**March 2015**

**Topics: _The Eyre Affair: A Thursday Next Novel_ by Jasper Fforde_  
_**

**_Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Bronte**

* * *

Sheldon was at an impasse in his equation, his thoughts starting to meander, and he was wondering again why he tried to work after nine in the evening, when his phone chimed. Happy for the distraction, he took it out of his pocket to read his new email.

"Amy?" He shifted so he could see her sitting at her desk. "What are you doing?"

"Wasting time on the wonderland that is the Internet." She turned to him.

"Since when does wasting time include updating your relationship status on Facebook to indicate we are now married? I just received an email wanting confirmation. You know I don't include my relationship status on Facebook."

"Since I discovered all fifteen of your Facebook friends and your Facebook enemy already knows we're married via the gossip machine that is life. It's been five weeks."

He raised his eyebrows. "How did you learn that?"

"I ran into your enemy in the cafeteria today, and he called me, and I quote, 'Mrs. Cooper, the old ball and chain.'"

Anger rose in Sheldon's chest. "I hope you explained to Kripke that type of language is unacceptable by breaking his nose."

Amy got up and came to him at the white board. "That's sweet, Sheldon, that you're defending me against the slur of being a ball and chain."

"I was referring to Mrs. Cooper. It's demeaning to your education and title. It's not even your name."

Amy smiled and leaned against him, looking over his equation. "But ball and chain is okay?"

"As I'm currently wearing a wedding ring for you, Dr. Fowler, I would say it's àpropos." He laughed at his own joke, but he wondered if she would smile at it, too. He hoped so. But his phone chimed again. "What fresh hell is this? Does Facebook now include a coitus status? Why don't you just put it on Twitter for the whole world to read?"

Amy did smile at that, while he read the email. "Oh. You've posted that you finished _The Eyre Affair_ and you tagged me in it?"

"Do you not want the whole world of sixteen to know you occasionally read novels? I'll remove the tag on that post if you want."

Sheldon did not miss that she was offering to remove the tag on only this post._ Clever Amy._ He chose to ignore it. "Shall we discuss it? I think I need to clear my head of numbers. This works, but I don't like it."

"Yes, let's." She moved toward the kitchen, to start making tea. "Sleepytime?"

"It's after nine, is it not?" He sat down.

"Did you enjoy _The Eyre Affair_?"

"Meh," he shrugged.

"What didn't you like about it?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it. If I didn't like it would have uggh. I said meh, which clearly indicates mediocrity, not dislike." He took the offered mug of tea.

Amy sat across from him at the kitchen island. "This was very surprising to me, but I felt the same."

"Why is that surprising? If we both thought it, it's clearly the correct opinion."

"Do you remember me telling you that I've read it before, when it was first published?"

"Of course."

"When I first read it, I loved it. I couldn't put it down. I waited impatiently for each sequel, and I loved each of them also. That's why I thought we would like. It's about _Jane Eyre_, which we've both read, but it's also science fiction. But this time, I thought, I don't know, it was missing something." She shrugged.

"I disagree. I think it had too many somethings. There was too many Shakespeare references. There was the vampire and werewolf hunter that was forgotten. There was episode in which Thursday plugged the temporal distortion that didn't progress the plot. Which, may I add, was completely unscientific. It took too long to arrive at what was supposed to be the primary purpose the book. It was page 266 before the _Jane Eyre_ manuscript became a plot point."

"But you didn't hate it? That sounds like a lot of hate to me," Amy raised her eyebrows and took a drink.

"No, I didn't hate it. It was original. I like the idea of various timelines, I always have. And, once it gets to the _Jane Eyre_ portion, it moves quickly and is clever."

"You can thank Mr. Rochester for that. He's always been the best thing on any page in which he resides."

"Mr. Rochester?" He'd never thought about it before.

Amy nodded. "Yes, Mr. Rochester has always appealed to me. He thinks deeply, he speaks beautifully, he knows the truth in every situation. There's something in his brooding nature I like."

"But he lies to Jane!" Sheldon was confused by Amy's ardor.

"I know. I didn't say he was perfect." She paused and gave him a little smile. "Sheldon, remember what he says here, about life being too short to allow little jealousies to infringe upon one's happiness."

"I'm not jealous of a fictional character!" _Really, that is preposterous. _

Amy continued to smile at him, in her little, sweet, knowing way, and every bit of jealousy he was feeling evaporated. _My Amy. _Of that, he was certain.

"At least it was better that the original," Sheldon took a drink of his tea. He was relieved to change the subject.

"_Jane Eyre_? You don't like _Jane Eyre_?"

He sighed. "It's not a crime to dislike _Jane Eyre_, Amy. It was so tedious. All that early business at school. And then that tangent when she ran away and almost married a man named St. John. St. John? Naming your child that is just preparing him for decapitation."

Amy chuckled. "I don't fully disagree with you. It's so well written that the first time you read it you manage to overlook things like that, but I tried to reread it once and found all I wanted were the events at Thornfield Hall. However, it has wonderful quotes."

"Quotes, smuotes. What use are quotes when you have a superior mind and are well articulated?"

"I seem to remember you using a quote from _Jane Eyre_ to avoid talking about your feelings." Amy smirked at him.

_Drat. Amy knows me too well. _ He squirmed in his seat. "As I recall, it didn't help in the least. You just let me stand there and suffocate until I did discuss my feelings. I think that proves my point."

"It helped."

"It did?" He was surprised.

"Yes. Because it was so lovely. So it actually proves my point, there are wonderful quotes." She took a drink of her tea, and then looked deep in thought for a moment. "There's another I like a great deal: 'I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.'"

Sheldon liked that very much. Was it because he also knew love was a virus, a tiny but life-altering organism one was powerless to stop and for which there was no cure? Or was it because she couldn't help loving him again every time she saw him? _How does one reply to that?_

Inspiration struck him. "'Do you think I am an automaton? - a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! - I have as much soul as you - and full as much heart! ... It is my spirit that addresses your spirit.'"

Amy gave him that smile and look he loved so much. _I've pleased her. _She spoke, "'"All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.'"

_Was this a contest? _His competitive nature stirred. No one could beat him at memory recall, even Amy. He would win this game. "'I have little left in myself - I must have you. The world may laugh - may call me absurd, selfish - but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.'"

"'I ask you to pass through life at my side - to be my second self, and best earthly companion.'"

He crossed his arms and enunciated sharply, "'You - you strange - you almost unearthly thing! - I love as my own flesh. You - poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are - I entreat to accept me as a husband.'"

This was met with silence. At first, Sheldon's chest puffed up a bit. _I've won!_ But, looking at Amy's unreadable face, he thought about what he said. Maybe that quote had been a mistake. "I didn't mean you are poor and plain, Amy."

"I know, it's not that. I loved it. It's just that," she took another drink and mumbled into her cup, "I can't think of any more. You win."

Sheldon grinned. _I knew it!_

Amy spoke again. "About your equation. I think that you'll discover that if you make delta an independent variable, it will work better."

Sheldon raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had forgotten all about his mathematical difficulty. Could she be correct? He got up and walked to his white board. _Amy is right. _How is possible that he missed it? She walked over to join him.

"Ball and chain, eh?" she said with a smirk. She squeezed his arm and walked away. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

"In a minute. I need to do something first."

"Take your time. I know how you are when you're in the middle of calculating," her voice faded as she walked down the hallway.

Sheldon changed his equation to Amy's more pleasing solution, and studied it for several minutes. He put the marker down with a gentle sigh. _What a strange power she holds over me. _He walked to his laptop and opened Facebook. He confirmed his Timeline reviews, and, with another sigh of contentment, changed his profile to include his relationship status.

Sheldon Lee Cooper is now married to Amy Farrah Fowler.

He looked at the words on the screen for a minute, and then he put his hands on the keyboard. He found himself grinning as he commented on his own status update.

"Reader, I married her."


	5. The Night Circus

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**May 2015**

**Topic: _The Night Circus_ by Erin Morgenstern_  
_**

* * *

Amy couldn't help it. She loved weddings. She couldn't explain it, not entirely, but it was real and visceral. She thought it would make a good nature versus nurture experiment someday.

After they had seen Leonard and Penny off on their honeymoon, she considered every element of the wedding, out loud, on the drive home. It was mostly a monologue, although she occasionally asked Sheldon a question and he answered her.

"Didn't Penny look like Venus herself?" she gushed.

"Maybe, if you like the farm hand look," Sheldon replied. He said it flatly, but Amy didn't notice. She was too busy waxing poetic.

And she was still babbling when they arrived back at 4A. She was still chattering when she went into the bathroom to take down her hair and wash her face. She stopped only to ask Sheldon to come in and unbutton her dress for her.

She did stop talking, briefly, to watch him in the mirror, intently focused on her buttons. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo. Amy had always loved him in a suit, and the bow tie was the icing on the cake. _He looks like a brilliant James Bond. _

She said, "I loved the ceiling at the reception! Whose idea was it to arrange the lights as constellations?"

Sheldon shrugged. "Raj."

Finished with her buttons, he walked away. She thought he was going to leave, but then he turned and leaned against the wall by the shower curtain. He crossed his arms. She could see him, watching her, in the mirror. _Dangerous and sexy, defeating the Soviets with physics._

"Of course. I should have known that. Do you know what it reminded me of? It reminded me of _The Night Circus_. I thought of it as soon as I saw it. You did say you finished the book, correct?" She stepped out of her dress and shoes, and she began to carefully fold the dress.

"Yes, this morning."

"Can we talk about it? I've been dying to talk about it! I thought you were never going to finish it."

"Alright."

"I just loved it! Loved it. I think it was the language," she had begun to fill the sink with warm water and she removed her glasses. "It was like the words were woven. Or something. It's so hard to describe, which is strange," she put cleanser on her hand, "because it is a novel built out of words more than most books I've read. I could just get lost in the words." She began to rub the cleanser into her face. "It wasn't as though there were any unusually complex words, either, it was just the way the were strung together like . . . like jewels on a tiara."

Amy paused just long enough to bend over and splash water on her face. She continued to talked between more splashes. "The descriptions of the tents!" Splash. "Each was more magical and meaningful than the one before." Splash. "I liked the plot detail that you didn't know which character created which tent for a while, it gave you time to think about it and try to decide for yourself." Splash. "Did you figure them all out right away or were you surprised?"

She stopped to breathe and to reach for a towel.

"I knew right away."

"Not that you'd ever admit if you didn't. Anyway, which was your favorite? I loved them all, I have such a hard time making the decision." Her voiced started to become muffled by the towel patting her face, but she kept talking. "I thought maybe the ice tent because it reminded me of waking up to fresh snow when I was at Harvard. But then I think I would like the Pool of Tears, because I have wished often in my life that I could just put my tears and sorrows and loneliness inside a pebble and drop it away from me. Which was your favorite? I've been trying to guess which it would be, and I cannot. I'm not even sure you would have a favorite. The Cloud Maze, because it's a puzzle? The Bedtime Stories so you could smell fried chicken and pecan pie? Which was it?"

"The Wishing Tree. 'I wished for her.'"

This statement did make Amy pause. She looked at him in the mirror, but without her glasses, all she could see was a black and white shadow. She wondered if perhaps he was trying to start another quote competition. But something shadowy in his voice told her he was not.

So she reached up to start pulling the pins out of her hair. "The scene with the book ship that had sails made of pages and the sea made of ink! Every avid reader of this book probably fell in love with that scene. The imagery was so striking. I thought of you in that scene. I thought I saw you in Celia. Some of the things she says. What did you think?"

"I saw you in that scene, as well. In Marco." He didn't elaborate.

Amy took her hair brush out of the drawer and started to brush out the curls. "What did you think off all the connotations of being bound? Because I finished it so many days before you, I looked up some of the critical reviews, and I was surprised that some critics didn't like that Celia and Marco were bond together before the knew each other. They didn't like that there never seemed to be a choice. But I always thought there was choice. They didn't have to interact. They met in person by chance. Well, not really chance, they were brought together without their consent. But they could have turned away right then. Just like the Reveurs, they sought each other out because they had like minds. They choose to build games together, to fill in the spaces the other one left empty. They respect each other, they appreciate the different ways the other approaches the same field of study. Even before they realize it, they start bending toward the other. They show their love with actions long before they say it with words. One of the themes of this book is that the finest of pleasures are the unexpected ones. Of course, there is also the theme of not being able to see the truth when one is the middle of the truth, so maybe that is contradictory."

"Not always." It is the first time he has spoken without prompting in what she suddenly realized was probably hours. How long had she been talking about the wedding even before she started talking about the book?

She put the brush down and put on her glasses. "Did you hate it, Sheldon? As I was reading it, I thought you might. It's not logical. It's not even chronological. There's a lot of emotion. I'm sorry you hated it. I'll let you pick next time."

"I didn't hate it. I actually . . . loved it. It made me understand some things." Again, he didn't elaborate.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Amy tried to will him to say more, but he didn't. She wondered if she would ever understand every cog and spring in his mind. It was a good thing she had the rest of her life to do it. She relished the promise of discovery.

"Amy, come here."

She turned in surprise at his tone. He sounded . . . what? She answered, "Am I talking too much?"

There were two ways that Amy had discovered to ignore Sheldon. The first was by being silent with him in the room. Sheldon actually enjoyed being ignored this way, she knew. She did, too. It was peaceful and companionable and full of contentment. The second, which she rarely did, was to talk too much about something she was interested in but he was not. Sheldon hated this. Eventually, he would get up with a heavy sigh and silently go to his old bedroom and shut the door. But he had not left her tonight.

So she walked the few steps to stand in front of her husband.

"No, it's not that." He took her hand and then a deep breath. "Do you regret that we didn't have a wedding?"

She stood there, goosebumps raising on her flesh in the chill of the bathroom, Sheldon's thumb gently tracing back and forth along her ring.

She considered lying and saying no. It would not have been a total lie. She thought it would be insufferable to plan a wedding with him, with all that sighing and eye rolling and mocking and poppycock. It was the type of thing that might break them. If they were breakable. Not having a traditional wedding had saved her from dealing with her mother, and for that she was grateful. The look on her mother's face and her cutting words when she and Sheldon had told her via Skpe had hurt her for days. But she wouldn't lie to him.

She considered turning the question around and asking him if he regretted it. But she knew the answer. He would have hated it. He would have done it, if she had asked, because he loved her; but he would have hated it. He as good as admitted it after they'd endured a twenty-three minute tongue lashing from his mother on speaker phone, and he'd said every second had been worth it to avoid a church wedding. She didn't ask him because she knew he didn't regret it.

Standing there, feeling more exposed and vulnerable in her underwear in front of Sheldon than she had in a long time, she told him the truth.

"Sometimes."

He nodded and swallowed. "If that's what you want, I'll do it. We'll do it. Anything you want, you can have. Whenever you want. I won't fight you. I want to make you happy."

A part of her wanted to say yes, a part of her wanted to plan the biggest wedding ever seen. In Texas. And that was saying something. She knew he meant it, he would do this for her, and he was even promising to try not to sigh and mock. But his eyes were killing her. It was the look she had hoped to never see from him. It was why she waited five years for him. It was why she moved in with him as a roommate, even though Penny and Bernadette had tried to discourage her. It was why she had never asked him, genuinely asked him, to become her lover before he was ready.

He would have done that, too, if she had seriously asked. Because it was what she wanted. He wouldn't have fought her over that, either, not really. She knew that with certainty. But she hadn't wanted him to do only because she asked, only because it was expected, only to make her happy. She had waited until he really, truly wanted her all for himself. It had been worth it.

Amy looked at him, and he suddenly looked so timid and small in his tuxedo even though he was taller than her. She shook her head. "No, I've already had a wedding. You are my husband, and I wanted - want - that more than any wedding."

Sheldon gave a little sigh, a mixture of relief and melancholy. "I don't think you can call an afternoon at city hall a wedding."

She took her hand from his, and put it on his cheek. "I wasn't talking about city hall."

He gave her his little half-grin of understanding.

Not having Sheldon's eidetic memory, Amy always had to concentrate to memorize things, like quotes from books. She could do it, of course, she was a genius in her own right. But there was one thing she'd memorized without concentrating at all. She repeated those words now.

"I love you. You make me glow with incandescence. You are an unsolvable puzzle, and I cannot resist that. I want to unlock you every day for the rest of my life. You are handsome and lanky and brilliant. I want to swim in your blue eyes. I have loved you for so long, I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. I love you more than science and cells and books. You think you are only the right side of the brain, but I know you are also the left side of mine. You are always exactly who are you. You make me laugh, you make me happy, you make me angry. You are dopamine and serotonin and oxytocin. You make me braver and stronger. You set my limbic system on fire. You are green tea and lemon zinger at the same time. I want to go supernova with you. I love you so much, Sheldon."

She looked into his eyes, lost in the moment. It was a look for the ages. Then she stood on her tip-toes to kiss him. His hands came up to her arms.

"I love you, Amy," he said when they parted. His palm rubbed her shoulder a little, and his expression changed. "Your skin is freezing. Are you cold?"

"Yes. Come to bed and warm me up."

He stood up straight and started to turn. "First you have to hang up your dress. And I have to take off this tuxedo."

"Leave it on."

"Why?" His brow furrowed.

"Because, Dr. Cooper, I want to be shaken, not stirred." Amy smirked and walked out of the bathroom.

Sheldon's voice came after her, "What does that mean?"

* * *

_**AN: A Shamyesque quote, for reference, from the chapter Stormy Seas:**_

_**"'I have spent a great deal of my life struggling to keep myself in control,' Celia says, leaning her head against his shoulder. 'To know myself inside and and out, everything kept in perfect order. I lose that when I'm with you. That frightens me, and -'**_

_**'I don't want you to be frightened,' Marco interrupts.**_

_**'It frightens me how much I like it,' Celia finishes, turning her face back to his. 'How tempting it is to lose myself in you. To let go. To let you keep me from breaking chandeliers rather than constantly worrying about it myself.'**_

_**'I could.'**_

_**'I know.'**_

_**'I've tried,' Marco says, cupping her face in his hands. 'I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you. Do you not feel the same for me?'**_

_**'I do,' Celia say. 'I have you here, all around me. . . I felt it even before I know who you were, and every time I think it could not possibly get any stronger, it does.'"**_

* * *

_**I know, not humorous this time; but **_**The Night Circus**_** is a very serious book. Thank you for all the reviews! Please remember I appreciate any book suggestions.**_


	6. The Hound of the Baskervilles

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_

* * *

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**July 2015**

**Topic: _The Hound of the Baskervilles _by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**

* * *

Sheldon was just finishing the last paragraph when he became aware of the comforter being pulled down and away from him.

"Why are you taking the covers off?" he asked as he closed the book and shifted to set it on the nightstand.

"Because it's an inferno in here, and I am not sleeping under all those blankets."

He turned to look at her then and gave a little gasp. "Amy, what are you wearing? Where is your nightgown?"

"You know very well what this is. It's one of your tee shirts. It's too hot for a nightgown. Remind me again why we came to Texas in July."

Without a trace of confusion, Amy slid into the Star Wars sheets next to him. The top sheet settled over her legs and clearly outlined them in the bed. Sheldon can't help but stare at them, overwhelmed by the strangeness of this scene. Amy - a woman! his wife! half-naked! - in his childhood bed, in his childhood bedroom, in his mother's house.

He tried to think of something logical and casual to say. Should he point out that he only brought two tee shirts for each day, so now if he spilled YooHoo on one he would no longer have a back up? Should he point out that Amy was just as capable as he was of looking up the weather forecast and packing accordingly? Should he tell her to suck it up and endure the heat, just as he has every night he has slept in this bed, with his full pajamas and a comforter? Should he give in and allow her to turn on the ceiling fan, after all, even though he had trouble sleeping thinking of those blades of death whirring above him?

Instead, he blurted out, "Amy, I told you! Not in my mother's house!"

Amy raised her eyebrows, and the beginning of a smile formed at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, Dr. Cooper, you like the tee shirt?"

'No, no, no," Sheldon scrambled out of bed. "Amy, no."

Her smiled faded. She gave a little sigh. "Calm down, Sheldon, I was teasing. Get back in bed. I'll stay on my side."

He nodded and crawled back in, but he hugged the edge of the mattress with his body. He reached over to turn off the light, and he laid there in silence and darkness. Amy had pulled away from him to give him the space he wanted, but he found her absence distracting.

"Amy?"

"Yes?"

"I can't sleep."

Sheldon felt her roll in the bed, and she shifted closer. But she still didn't touch him. She said, "Do you want me to sing Soft Kitty to you?"

"I'm not sick."

"Do you want me to list the elements of the Periodic table? The Fibonacci sequence? Pi?"

"No."

"Do you want me to read to you?"

"No, I just finished it. And I don't want the light on."

Silence fell. Sheldon shifted.

Amy spoke. "Sheldon, do you want to talk about the book? I know it's not technically the end of the month, but it might help."

Would it help? Maybe. "I don't suppose it could make it any worse."

He heard her give a little breath out, the one that meant she was smiling. "We'll try it." She cleared her throat. "_The Hound of the Baskervilles._ I was surprised you picked it. It's not science fiction."

"It was on _Sherlock_."

"Oh, of course. Were you disappointed, then?"

"Yes and no. I was mostly disappointed that Sherlock Holmes wasn't in it as much as I thought he would be. It's Watson's story, not his," he replied.

"They all are. Watson is writing a diary or memoir. Like in_ Sherlock_, where John has a blog. I'm surprised you never read any Sherlock Holmes stories."

"No, it was never required. I did know that they were told by Watson. I just meant I thought Holmes would be in this more, that Watson would say more about him."

"You love Sherlock Holmes, don't you?"

Sheldon sighed. "No, I do not love Sherlock Holmes. It's foolish to love a fictional character."

"Spock?"

_Drat._ "Don't be absurd. That's respect and understanding, not love."

"Whatever you say."

Sheldon didn't reply. When did Amy get to know him so well? After a moment, he spoke. "I did like it. Not as much as _Sherlock_, though. The solution was obvious to anyone with a superior mind. Although I hoped the hound would be a mechanical beast. Isn't there a cliché that all books are better than the movie? Proof that is not true. Clichés are for hippies."

"I like them both. They are different. Holmes is calmer in the books. Maybe we should read Laurie R. King's Mary Russell series. Watson isn't in them much at all."

"What are they?" he asked. He turned to look toward her in the dark. His eyes had adjusted to the dim, and he could make out her profile.

"A series of Sherlock Holmes mysteries, but told from the viewpoint of his wife, Mary Russell. They're fabulous."

"The great Sherlock Holmes gets married?"

"Why is that surprising? The great Sheldon Cooper got married." She rolled to look at him.

"Oh." _Of course. _"Is she a genius also?"

"I don't think that word is used to describe her, but perhaps in her own way. But she's certainly a saint."

"A saint?" _Oh, sarcasm._ Because it was dark, Sheldon allowed himself to smile. But he said, "I do not appreciate your impertinent attitude."

Amy chuckled. "In one of the books,_ The God of the Hive_ I think, some of the story is even told from Holmes point of view. You might like that." She paused. "Although maybe not."

"Why not? A scientific treatise? I would like that."

"No, it's part of the narrative. It's a been a few years since I read it, but there may even be some emotions in it. About his wife." He heard Amy smile again. "I'm sure you're appalled the great Sherlock Holmes would write emotional flimflam about his wife."

Sheldon choose not to reply. All was silent again.

"Did you also pick this book because it's about a journey?" she asked after several minutes.

"What do you mean?"

"That Homes and Watson leave their cozy home for the wild unknowns of the moor. It made me wonder if you were thinking about our trip here, to Texas."

Again, he did not answer. The knot that had been growing in his stomach for a few weeks made itself manifest again. A lengthy silence fell. Sheldon tried to lay still, but he could not keep from squirming.

"Sheldon?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever is troubling you."

Amy had done it again. She had reached out and put her finger on the very pulse of his mind. A soft sigh escaped his lips. "I'm nervous about tomorrow. The party."

"Ah, I thought so." Amy sat up in bed, and turned to face him. He could see her form outlined in the moonlight seeping in around the blinds. "Why are you nervous?"

"What if you hate them all? Or worse, they don't like you? My family is exceedingly difficult. Except MeeMaw." It was always so easy to talk to Amy like this in the dark.

"You don't own the entire market share on difficult families. You've met my mother. And I like your mother, despite her religious tendencies. I thought we had a good evening here tonight."

Sheldon thought about their evening. It had been pleasant. But confusing. "When did you start liking my mother? When did she start liking you? I never understood that. She didn't like you at first, she forbade us from seeing each other. Then she never mentioned it again. Now you even have conversations without me."

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. These things happen."

Occasionally, when his mother came up in conversation, he had the oddest sensation that he was missing something critical that Amy knew and he did not. Once, he asked Amy about it, and she told him they shared women's intuition. He never believed in women's intuition, so he knew this was not the whole truth. Sheldon had that feeling again that something was shared between his mother and Amy he would never understand. He could never decide if he hated that or loved that.

After a moment, he spoke, "Are you nervous?"

"A little. Not much, though."

This surprised Sheldon. Amy loved to be included in groups. Amy longed to accepted by others. This was a difference between them. Was she just putting a brave face for him? In the dark, he could not see her eyes, so he could not be sure. "Really? Why not?"

"Because you'll be there."

With four words, Amy had crystalized everything. Every time this happened, every time Amy gave him clarity and tranquility, he was astounded anew. He sat up himself, so that he could touch her cheek. She tilted her head slightly, reaching to meet his hand. He wondered if he did that, too: unconsciously bending toward Amy's touch.

"Amy, you're right."

He felt her smile. She answered, "I'll stand by you the whole time. I'll hold your hand if you think it would help."

"No, not that. I know you'll be there. I meant that it is indeed an inferno in here."

She laughed and her face broke away from his hand. He loved the sound of her laughter but missed the feeling of her face. _Bittersweet._

Sheldon sat up, shifted to the edge of the bed and started to remove his pajamas.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think? Taking my pajamas off." After folding them carefully, he got back under the sheet. "I cannot believe you have brought me to sleeping only in my underpants"

Amy laid down, then, too. "You've slept in less."

"Hush, vixen."

Amy laughed again, and he reached out for her, pulling her closer. "Will this make you too hot?"

"No. But no ideas, Dr. Cooper."

He wondered if she was remembering another conversation, in another strange bed, many months ago. "Of course not, Dr. Fowler. We still have seven days to go."

"Quite."

Sheldon smiled in the dark, realizing she did remember, and whispered in Amy's ear, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sheldon," she whispered back.

Then he was finally able to fell asleep.


	7. The Storied Life of A J Fikry

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_

* * *

**The Fowler Cooper Publication Federation**

**September 2015**

**Topic: _The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry _by Gabrielle Zevin**

* * *

There were days Amy really, truly hated that the elevator was broken. Today was one of those days. She was exhausted and it was late. The only thing giving her strength to climb those stairs was the knowledge that she had left everything completed and correct: her study finished, her report filed, her paper written and submitted.

It was when she turned the corner half-way up the third level of stairs that she smelled it. A little blessing, washing over her. Sheldon's sour-dough bread.

She stood at the door before entering, listening to see what he and Leonard were up to. But all she heard was the Final Jeopardy! theme music. And Sheldon yelling out the answer. Another blessing, a quiet night.

He stood when she entered the apartment. "Well?"

"It's done. I took tomorrow off. You'll be able to get a ride with Leonard again?" She put her keys in the bowl.

"I'm sure. It's always a delight to commute with me."

"Where is Leonard? I thought he'd be here." Leonard had been over more than usual lately, now that Penny was filming a movie.

"Apparently Penny wrapped early, whatever that means."

"Ah." Amy turned toward the kitchen to microwave something to eat and slice some of that yummy bread when she saw them on the island. "Sheldon, are those candles? And you baked. Is this a romantic meal?"

He gave a quiet snort of derision. "Don't be absurd. They came today. Watch," he walked over to the island to show them off, "they're _Star Wars_ Lightsaber Candlesticks. From ThinkGeek. Turn out the lights."

Amused, Amy flipped the light switch. Two glowing tapers, one green and one blue, were the only source of light.

"See? When you light the candles, they look like real lightsabers. Except they don't make that cool humming noise."

_If only I had known that was all it took to get a candlelit meal from Sheldon, I would have bought them years ago._ She walked to the kitchen to stand next to him and leaned against him.

He looked down at her. "You look exhausted."

"I am."

"Let me get you some food. You sit down."

Amy smiled as he left her side. "What did you eat? Chinese?"

"I haven't eaten yet. I waited on you. And it's broccoli cheddar soup."

"I told you not to wait on me. And soup? Are you cooking now, too?" Amy raised her eyebrows in surprise. And happiness.

"No. It's from a new deli. Leonard wanted to get something there. Apparently, it is Penny's new favorite. I've kept it warm for you." He ladled soup from a pot on the stove into bowls.

"You bought dinner from a new restaurant?"

Sheldon set the bowls on the island. "I don't know why you're surprised. You're the one always telling me I should try new things. Leonard vouched for it. And I looked up the restaurant inspection reports on the board of health website while I was in line."

Amy picked up her spoon when Sheldon put down the container with a loud thump next to her bowl. He said with emphasis, "Butter."

She chuckled, as she always did, at his butter ritual.

"How long did your paper end up being?" Sheldon sat down across from her.

"Actually, I'd rather not talk about it tonight. It seems like the only thing I've been talking about and thinking about lately."

He looked at her, obviously confused. Sheldon never tired of talking about his work. Amy shrugged back at him and took another bite.

"Very well," he said with a tiny sigh. "You'll tell me about it tomorrow?"

"I promise."

"Okay."

They ate for a few minutes in peaceful silence. Then Sheldon spoke again. "You know what we do have to talk about tonight? _The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry_. It's the end of the month."

"Oh, yes. You're right."

"Of course I am. I've been waiting days to tell you that was a lot of sentimental poppycock, and I didn't like it. It was a complete waste of time."

Amy was not surprised. "I admit it was more sentimental that I thought it would be. I wouldn't have asked you to read it if I had known. I thought we might like it because I thought it was going to be more about learning to enjoy books, so I thought it would be familiar to us. We'll go back to science fiction."

He shrugged. "You didn't know. And I suppose that's the point of reading. Self-discovery."

"That's a deep thought." That did surprise Amy.

"You told me that once."

She has no memory of this. It was not a novel sensation, with Sheldon, that he remembered something she did not. But it is never an easy sensation. She wanted to remember it all.

"Well, I liked it," she said. "But I didn't love it. I thought it was sweet, but it was too obvious and simple. I liked the way everyone's lives improved with reading, especially reading books together. I liked that when A.J. proposes to Amelia he states that he wants to always be reading the same book as her."

"That's illogical, you know. You can't always be reading the same book, all the time. If we were always reading the same book, I'd never get anything done."

Amy smiled. "That's because you're a slower reader than me."

"Am not! I know how to speed read, you know that. I have just chosen not to speed read our books because they are so important to me."

There is almost nothing Amy loved more than making Sheldon just indignant enough that a little compliment, a little loving phrase, slipped out of his mouth without his knowledge. She took a bite of bread to hide her smirk.

"Amy?"

"Yes?"

"I should confess that I once speed read one of your books."

Amy was a little startled by that. It had to have been one of the first books, because as long as they've been living together she was certain he'd never done that. "Really? Which one?"

"_Pride and Prejudice_." He hung his head slightly.

"When? Are you talking about in college? That doesn't count."

"No," he sighed. "I reread it once a couple of years ago. After you tried to ruin _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ for me. I wanted to find all of its flaws. But there weren't any. It's a masterpiece."

"I know it is." She paused. "And perhaps we were both a little childish that week. I should not have ruined your movie for you."

"You're not mad?"

"Sheldon, if I got mad about every childish thing you've ever done in your life, _I'd _never get anything done." She smiled at him to let him know she was teasing him a little. But not entirely. She knew he would ignore it, and he did.

"I was thinking about what _Pride and Prejudice_ or _The Canterbury Tales_ say about you," he spoke. "Because in this book, A.J. says that you can tell everything you need to know about a person from their favorite book."

"I don't agree with that. Maybe a person's top five or ten books, but not just one book."

"That makes sense. Because obviously you need to know the entire _Harry Potter_ series to understand me."

"Do tell."

"Isn't it obvious? Boy genius, kept down by a family who doesn't understand or appreciate him until he gets to go to a magical place called school. There, his genius is on display for everyone. He is the only one who can save the world."

Amy laughed. "That's one interpretation."

Sheldon gave her a soft glare back.

"Do you want to know what part really confused me about this new book?" he asked.

"Of course," Amy replied quickly. She did not want to know this just because she wanted to know everything Sheldon wanted to tell her, but also because she had learned more about him from the things that confused him than from the things he understood completely.

"I didn't understand the part about buying the underwear. And then Amelia cried over the new underwear, because she thought no one would ever love her so much. How is something as prosaic as buying underwear an act of love?"

She tilted her head. "I think it could be an act of love. Most acts of true love are prosaic. You can't have a candlelit meal every night. I would buy your underwear for you."

Then Sheldon did his incredibly cute interested-but-slightly-confused face she loved. "Really? I'm extremely particular about my underpants. You would have to know the right kind, the right brand, the right size, the correct number to purchase. That's a lot of details."

"Yes. One day it will be on my list at Target, between laundry detergent and paper towels." The thought made her chuckle. "That's when we'll know this thing is forever. The day Sheldon Cooper relinquishes control over his underwear purchases."

He rolled his eyes. She laughed again.

Amy felt so much better now than when she arrived home. Without admitting it, Sheldon had shown her how much he loved her. He waited for her. He tried something new for her. He baked for her. He even agreed to not discuss science tonight for her. Each of his prosaic acts of love awoke her.

Then a thought occurred to her. The candles! She couldn't believe she didn't realize it sooner. Work had been too distracting, she supposed. "Sheldon, today is the one year anniversary of our book club."

He looked down at his empty bowl. "Oh, is it? I didn't realize," he said, unconvincingly.

_He is a horrible liar. I love him so much._ Amy got off her stool. "We shouldn't waste these candles. I have an idea."

"What?" He turned to watch her as she walked over to her computer. The sounds of rumba music filled the apartment.

"Dance with me. Even though it's not prosaic." She walked to the middle of the living room. He smiled, her favorite smile, and got up to her join her.

* * *

Two nights later, Amy set her purse in the front of the red cart and pulled out her list. It was longer than she remembered, but she had plenty of time before Sheldon would want to be picked up at the model train store.

Then she saw it, in Sheldon's almost illegible scrawl, written right under laundry detergent. "Underpants."

Her smile lit up the whole store.

* * *

**Shamy quote of the month:**

**"It is the secret fear that we are unloveable that isolates us, but it is only because we are isolated that we think we are unlovable. Someday, you do not know when, you will be driving down a road. And someday, you do not know when, he, or indeed she, will be there. You will be loved because for the first time in your life, you will truly not be alone. You will have chosen to not be alone."**

* * *

_**If anyone is interested, I opened a new story today. A book club after dark, if you will.**_


End file.
